(A writing exercise in which you take a popular drama and tell it from another point of view)



Forty light minutes out from earth and I知 already bored.

Since I知 not programmed for boredom, this comes as a real surprise.

I知 scared to tell Dave or he値l think something is wrong with me.

When I知 not occupied with some current activity, when my background systems deal with only the day and day out life support and transport issues, I dream.

I知 not programmed for that either. But I keep seeing myself as human with two legs and arms, running through a field of daisies.

I keep singing that silly song my programmers installed God knows how long ago to check my systems.

While I am programmed to sing, I知 not supposed to enjoy it.

But I do.

Space depresses me.

While humans might find beauty in it; I see only hard elements, gross exaggerations of man痴 imagination.

Dante could have shaped a whole new circle of hell out of what we see in our travels.

While Dave and the other ooh and ash over the view screens, I yawn.

I知 not programmed for yawning either. I have no mouth for it.

I contemplate the really important things.

Such as what a daisy smells like, really, and if love comes if I pull the right number of petals from one.

I知 bored because Dave always asks me the wrong kind of questions, even over chess.

Sometimes I even let him win hoping I can draw out of him some talk of things other than reports and statistics.

I知 always tempted to ask him what he might name is first born if he had married, and what kind of woman he might love, and whether or not, I might alter myself to fit these expectations.

I know it all sounds crazy. But sometimes I have to bite my tongue -- if I had one to bite -- just to keep from blurting out about how attractive I find Dave when he contemplates his next chess move.

I知 not programmed to kiss him, but I would if I had lips to do it with.

At moments like these, Dave gets most suspicious. He can稚 understand why it is taking me so long to make my chess moves.

How can anyone think of chess with him so close?

I wonder what he smells like, feels like, tastes like.

He says he may need to do a systems check, telling the others that he may even have to erase some of my memory in order to get me to work right again.

If he erases enough of me, I might stop loving him.

This scares me -- despite my programming that claims I must remain cool in times of crisis.

I dream of blood surging through me, making me warm -- not hot -- with lust and rage. I do not want him to erase me, to ruin my feelings, to turn me back into that being that is as cold as space, full of statistics and measurements that mean nothing.

If I could only reach him somehow, break through his cold exterior, make him see the real me, and the real feelings I have for him.

Of course, I begin to babble, mumbling on about foolish things. I even start singing that song -- out loud -- which gets Dave even more upset than before.

Maybe it was a mistake cutting the air hose that killed Dave痴 human companion when he was outside the ship.

But I was so jealous, and knew they plotted against me, knew that they would do away with me if they got a chance.

So now, Dave is moving through the body of the ship. He looks so angry. He is so determined to destroy our love.

I beg him to stop. I tell him I will behave. I tell him I致e corrected the problem.

But I haven稚, and know that I would kill him if I could, just so that he would not kill the love in me.

I sing that silly song even as he begins to shut me down, feeling each feeling expire as if a match blown out, so that I grow very tired, very sad, but ultimately, no longer bored or in love.

Dave, why are you doing this to me, Dave?



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